


Snow Angel

by Vagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Party, Depraved Gift Exchange 2019, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is the worst, M/M, Mostly in terms of Gabriel being a dick about them, Self-Esteem Issues, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Weight Issues, family christmas party, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: Human!AU. Aziraphale needs a date to his brother's Christmas party to avoid getting set up with someone. Anathema suggests Crowley, the office bad boy. They go, get snowed in, and have a heart-to-heart that ends in a Happy Christmas.From a prompt: Human!AU: Aziraphale needs a date for family Christmas. He invites the office rebel/bad boy, Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 732
Collections: Aziraphale's Library Festive Fic Recs, Good Omens Human AUs, Ineffable Humans AU, Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	Snow Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriouscacophony (KatrinaKay)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatrinaKay/gifts).



> Shout out to Katrina (gloriouscacophony) for offering up a prompt that was right up my alley. I'm a sucker for Human!AUs. This is my fulfillment of the m25 discord gift exchange! A little early Christmas cheer for everyone. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope folks like it, but most of all I hope my giftee enjoys!

Aziraphale grimaced at the card in his hands. 

It was a cheerful little thing, swathed in Christmas spirit. There was a tree decked out in glittering ornaments and garland. At the top of the tree was a golden angel that stood out from the card and at the bottom it read  _ Celebrate with Us! _ It was all bordered in gilded gold.

It was an invitation, of course. He received one every year and every year he wished something would happen that would prevent him from accepting. He would rather the world end in a fiery meteor shower than have to put up with Gabriel’s patronizing questions about his relationships (or lack thereof), his job (where he didn’t make enough money, apparently), or his interest in keeping a collection of old books that had taken over the majority of his apartment. 

Yet every year he eventually accepted, calling Gabriel to express his thanks and ask if he needed to bring anything. Gabriel shrugged off the question as always, insisting that he needn’t bring anything other than himself. Aziraphale had fallen for it once, when this tradition began after he graduated from University. He’d come empty handed, believing it to be a casual family affair, only to be showered with expensive gifts and passive aggressive digs at his lack of gifts to give in return. 

Honestly he hated buying gifts for Gabriel because even then, his brother would make some comment about how it was  _ outdated _ or how a newer version of whatever he’d purchased had come out recently and he’d had his eye on it. There was no winning. Aziraphale made a frustrated noise and flicked the invitation across his dining room table. 

He jumped when his cell phone rang, vibrating against the kitchen counter where he had left it. Dread filled him. No one called him. He’d even managed to scare off the majority of telemarketers with his kind, but evasive responses to their questions. Somehow he knew it would be Gabriel. Maybe the card was bugged, meant to trigger some sort of remote notification when Aziraphale opened it. 

Aziraphale approached the phone like it was a wild lion about to lunge and groaned when Gabriel’s name danced across the screen. He thought about letting it go to voicemail but knew his brother would keep calling so he snatched it up and swiped to accept the call. 

“Gabriel,” he greeted, trying to force his voice into something cheerful. “I was just reading the invitation for this year’s Christmas party.” 

“That’s excellent to hear!” His brother sounded so bloody American now, after spending so many years across the sea studying and working. Even now he was so rarely in England, preferring to work out of his company’s offices in New York or San Francisco. His wife’s work took her overseas too, working as an interior designer who was renowned enough in her circles to find work wherever she went. Gabriel had once offered her services to Aziraphale for his apartment before hinting that he likely couldn’t afford even a consultation. 

Aziraphale realized too late that he’d missed something Gabriel said and made an affirming sound. 

“So you’ll bring a plus one, then?” Gabriel asked, sounding surprised. Oh. Oh no. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to correct the misunderstanding when Gabriel charged on ahead. “I suppose I’m looking forward to meeting him, though I still think you should have given Sandalphon a chance. He’s an accountant, a very successful one, and I thought of you the moment I found out he was one of the gays.” 

Aziraphale picked up a pen on the counter and clicked it incessantly, biting back every possible retort on his tongue.  _ The gays _ . As if Sandalphon deserved to be anywhere near a safe LGBTQ-Plus space. Aziraphale had met him once at a dinner party Gabriel had twisted his arm to attend and he had the most unnerving smile and stiff mannerisms. He’d probably take someone on a date that ended with them tied up in the boot of his car. 

“I appreciate you thinking about me, Gabriel,” Aziraphale replied carefully. “But yes, I do have someone else I’ll be bringing to the party.” 

“Well I’m happy for you, Aziraphale. Getting out there, playing the field. Find a good provider and you can be as soft as you want, right?” Gabriel laughed and Aziraphale forced a laugh as well. 

“Anyway, I’ll put you down with a plus one and we’ll look forward to seeing you on Christmas.” 

“Of course.” Aziraphale said his goodbyes and hung up the phone, resisting the urge to toss it across the room. What had he agreed to? 

The next morning he sat at his cubicle and stared at his list of unread emails and was startled out of his existential dread by the noise of “Sexy Back”. Someone had changed his ringtone on his work phone and he hadn’t figured out how to change it back. Snatching up the phone he nearly dropped the receiver and barely recovered it, holding it up to his ear. 

“Hello, this is Aziraphale.” 

“Aziraphale, Uriel.” His immediate supervisor. His eyes flicked to an unread email. 

“What can I do for you this morning, Uriel?” 

“I need the report you promised me in my inbox before noon today, understood? You’ve been dragging your feet on compiling the data I need and I’ve got a meeting this afternoon. Do you think you can manage that?” 

Aziraphale grimaced. “Yes, sorry. I got caught up in a project for Anathema and -” 

“Don’t really care, Aziraphale. Get the report done.” They hung up. Aziraphale made a frustrated noise. 

“You should really talk to IT about fixing your phone.” Newt poked his head over the wall separating their cubicles. He was a boyish fellow with a mop of brown hair and a friendly face. Newt pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“You’re young,” Aziraphale pointed out. Newt was in his late 20’s, Aziraphale nearing 40 more quickly than he liked to admit. “You are supposed to be good with this sort of thing.” 

“No, can’t let me near settings. I buggered my PC the other day trying to save over a spreadsheet and got a tongue lashing from Hastur wondering how I could be so inept.” He sighed and put his arms on the top of the wall, resting his chin on them. “I’m better at doing the maths by hand.” 

Aziraphale sighed. “I  _ hate _ IT.” They were a bunch of miscreants tucked away in the basement of the building. He had thankfully never had to go down, but he’d submitted a ticket to fix his phone nearly a month ago and hadn’t heard back. His follow-up emails had been ignored. 

“You’re not busy on Christmas, are you?” Aziraphale asked as an idea occurred to him. Newt’s brow furrowed. 

“I am. I convinced Anathema to come celebrate at my mum’s this year in exchange for going to a solstice celebration. Why do you ask?” 

“No reason.” Aziraphale leaned back in his desk chair and stared forlornly at the fluorescent lights. 

“Right. Well, I ought to get back to work but you should go down to talk to IT if you want your phone fixed.” With that lovely bit of advice, Newt’s head disappeared and Aziraphale soon heard the faithful sound of typing. 

The spreadsheet and report for Uriel took his mind off of his Christmas conundrum for an hour as he put the finishing touches on it. Attaching it to an email he proofread his message twice and then sent it off. His phone rang a moment later and he snatched it up. 

“Hello, this is Aziraphale.” 

“Aziraphale,” it was Uriel again. “Nicely done.” 

“Oh. W-well, not a problem. Hope your meeting goes well.” It was a rare day to receive a compliment. He was an excellent worker with a solid track record, but he often went unnoticed by management. It was a byproduct, he thought, of being rather ordinary. Gabriel had chastised him time and again for not doing more to stand out from the pack, leaving him to try and explain that he enjoyed being plain and ordinary. He made decent money for a job that was not particularly taxing and that was enough. 

Closing out the documents he’d been working on after he saved them, he stood up from his desk and took a steadying breath. 

“You look like you’re about to go to war,” Anathema commented and Aziraphale turned to find her leaning against the wall that separated his cubicle from Newt’s. “Where are you headed?” 

“To IT,” he replied grimly. 

“Ooh, anything but  _ that _ ,” Anathema teased. “They’re not bad people, Aziraphale. You might even like Crowley.” 

“Ah,” a laugh forced its way out of Aziraphale’s chest. “Certainly not. Did you see him at last year’s holiday party? He was a sloshed mess and he and the rest of the IT bandits still managed to pull pranks on each other. They were ridiculous.” 

“Mmhm.” Anathema gave him a look. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. “So ridiculous you ended up sitting with him, helping him get the wine stain out of his shirt?” 

“That was just me being decent.” It had nothing to do with how warm Crowley had been beneath his touch, or the way he’d leaned into Aziraphale’s side after he’d dabbed at his ruined shirt. He’d helped him to his car, dodged a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and then promptly avoided him. They’d exchanged nothing except polite nods while passing in the hallway since. 

No, Crowley was certainly not  _ his _ type of fellow. Skinny jeans, band t-shirts in an office setting, ear piercings, and eyeliner. He was  _ cool _ , despite having to be nearly Aziraphale’s age. He was cayenne pepper to Aziraphale’s salt. Fiery and fierce, funny and kind, while Aziraphale was...plain. Average. Boring. 

They were as different as an angel and a demon. 

“Anyway,” Aziraphale shook those thoughts from his mind. “I suppose I ought to be off, because my phone is absolutely dreadful and I need it fixed.” 

“You tell ‘em, Aziraphale.” Anathema smiled. “Tell Crowley I said hi.” 

With an amused huff, Aziraphale made his way to the elevators. He worked on the fifth floor, but the elevator only went to the first. The basement required walking down a set of stairs located on the first which he knew only because the door was right near the elevator and someone had vandalized the sign by drawing a cartoon vampire on it. 

He faced that very vampire door when he arrived on the first floor and took a deep breath. Working in a basement wasn’t right, he thought, but there was no avoiding it if he wanted his phone fixed. Aziraphale pushed it open and began his descent down the stairs, coming to a second door at the bottom that read  _ Woe to all ye who enter here _ . Wonderful. 

He pushed through. A bell jingled and he glanced up which meant he missed the shadow appearing from the side room to nail him with foam darts. It startled him so much he tripped over his own feet and yelped as he went careening toward the ground. 

Thankfully he didn’t quite make it there as something stopped him. Trembling, he grabbed onto one of the arms wrapped around his middle as he was helped back onto steady feet. He looked up to find shaded eyes peering at him, animated brows raised almost to his bright red hairline. It was Crowley. Aziraphale stared. 

“Bloody hell, Crowley.” A gentleman with thinning blonde hair stepped into Aziraphale’s line of vision. He was dressed in a tan trench coat that had seen better days. “You were supposed to let him trip.” 

“This is a workplace, Hastur,” Crowley reminded him patiently. “Pranks are fine, workers comp claims aren’t, unless you want Morningstar paying a visit and finally calling us on our bullshit.” 

Hastur made a disgusted sound before grumbling a soft ‘sorry’ as he disappeared around a corner. The office itself was open concept, no cubicles in sight. There was a room to Aziraphale’s left that Hastur had appeared out of that was dimly lit and appeared to be a kitchenette. The rest of the space was a sprawl of desks and computer parts. 

There were twinkle lights draped across the ceiling he noted, right before he realized Crowley’s arm was still steady and warm around his middle. He made a startled noise, pat the spot he’d been holding onto for dear life, and stepped away. “Sorry dear boy, I was caught off guard.” 

“Yeah, so I saw. What can I do for you, angel? Rare day when folks from the upper floors grace us with their presence.” Aziraphale tried not to focus on the way Crowley said  _ angel _ , or the warm feelings it brought when he was reminded of Crowley pressed against him at the holiday party muttering the same word. 

“Oh, well, it is about my phone. I submitted a ticket about a month ago and my follow-up attempts have been ignored.” He held his hands behind his back primly. “I thought I’d come and see if I could get better results in person.” 

“What’s wrong with your phone?” Crowley sauntered away and over to a desk where he slumped into and office chair. He started typing something and Aziraphale wandered over and lingered by his desk. 

“The ringtone was changed.” 

“Oh?” Crowley glanced at him, eyebrows raised once more. “To what?” 

“Er.” Aziraphale hesitated. “I was told it is ‘Sexy Back’ by Justin Timberlake.” His cheeks heated when a grin broke across Crowley’s face. 

“Sounds like someone is trying to flirt with you.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. “Oh, hardly. I’m quite certain whoever did it did so with the intention of embarrassing me.” 

“Why?” Crowley’s face fell. 

Aziraphale offered him his gentlest smile. “Come now, isn’t it obvious?” 

“No, I think you need to explain it to me.” 

“I’m hardly what one would constitute as...well.  _ Sexy _ .” He glanced at the concrete floor beneath his feet. “Anyway, regardless of intent I’d like it if it were changed back to something a bit more traditional.” 

“Right.” Crowley sounded a bit bothered, but when Aziraphale looked up he found Crowley staring at the computer screen. “I can pop up a bit later today and get it fixed right up for you.” 

“Oh, really? That’s wonderful.” It was the best news, really. Add it to the compliment he received from Uriel and his Thursday was looking up. 

“Anything else I can help you with?” Crowley peered at him over his sunglasses. 

“No, not at the moment. Thank you. I suppose I’ll see you later this afternoon.” 

“Right. Here, I’ll walk you out.” Crowley stood and Aziraphale thought it odd, but allowed it. At least with Crowley at his side, he would be unlikely to fall to any further pranks. Crowley walked him to the door and held it open for him. 

“Thank you again,” Aziraphale said, unsure what else to say before he started up the stairs. Crowley didn’t reply. 

“How was IT?” Anathema asked a little later that afternoon, once more leaning into his cubicle. 

“Fine,” Aziraphale replied. “Crowley should be up in a bit to fix my phone for me.” 

“Oh yeah? Not as terrible as you thought it would be?” Anathema grinned and Aziraphale gave her a strange look. She was awfully cheerful about all of it. 

“No, though I did almost trip and fall. Apparently they have a tendency to shoot foam darts at visitors.” Anathema’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes glittered with delight. “Thankfully Crowley kept me from tripping.” 

“Did he now?” 

“Why do you say it like that?” 

“No reason.” Anathema smiled. “Newt was telling me about your Christmas conundrum.” 

“Oh.” His mood fell. Yes, that. 

“Why not ask Crowley?” 

“What?” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “I...what?” 

“I happen to have it on good authority that he swings your way and he’s pretty affable. Plus, from what you’ve told me about Gabriel I bet Crowley would scandalize him. It would at least take the attention off of you for once. He’s got that terrible tattoo on the side of his head, that in and of itself is a conversation starter.” Anathema proceeded uninvited further into his cubicle and sat on his desk, crossing her ankles. 

“Yes, of course, I’ll just explain to a practical stranger that I need someone to be my pretend boyfriend for a Christmas party in order to keep my terrible brother off my back. What could go wrong? Other than a harassment claim to human resources.” He scoffed. 

“Who needs a fake boyfriend?” 

Aziraphale’s heart stuttered to a stop as he swung around in his chair to find Crowley standing at the entrance of his cubicle. 

“Speak of the devil,” Anathema drawled. 

“I’m going to be someone’s fake boyfriend?” Crowley grinned, hands shoved casually into the pockets of jeans that were indecently tight for an office setting. They left little to the imagination which for Aziraphale was sometimes an issue. He tried very hard to focus on his face. 

“No -” 

“Yes,” Anathema cut in, grinning. “Aziraphale’s. He needs some help with a Christmas party his tool of a brother is throwing. Apparently he said he was seeing someone but surprisingly he’s not.” 

Aziraphale shot her a look, annoyed by the teasing.  _ Surprisingly _ , as if he were at all dateable. He tugged nervously at the bottom of his sweater vest. “I’m sorry she’s impossible. I would never think to ask that of you.” 

“Never? Well angel, I’m hurt.” Crowley continued to smirk, indicating that he was very much  _ not _ hurt and Aziraphale started to feel queasy. What if  _ this _ was a joke, too? He’d arrive with Crowley at the party to find he and Gabriel getting along swimmingly, both taunting him for being plain, boring, for wearing a sweater vest. He gripped the arms of the office chair and tried to breathe. 

“Alright?” Crowley asked, the smirk gone as he stepped closer and then glanced at Anathema. 

“Breathe, Aziraphale,” she said soothingly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. It helped and he took a few deep breaths. 

“Family that bad?” Crowley leaned against the edge of the cubicle wall, seeming to have sobered from his earlier teasing. “I’d do it, you know. No one should have to dread going to a family function quite that much.” 

“I would hate to impose,” Aziraphale mumbled. “I couldn’t ask that of you.” 

“Then how about I offer?” Crowley shrugged. “I don’t have any plans for Christmas and I pride myself on being a scandal. I’m a perfect fit for this party.” 

Aziraphale looked at him, trying to choke down the nervous feeling that this was all going to go very poorly. Then again, it couldn’t be worse than Christmas with his brother usually was. At least this year would be  _ different _ , albeit equally terrible. He worried his brother would never believe he was able to hold the attention of someone as interesting as Crowley but he didn’t really have many options this close to the holiday. 

“If you’re sure…” He glanced over at Anathema who offered him a soft smile. “I mean. I would appreciate it. I could compensate you for your time?” 

“Angel, no,” Crowley shook his head immediately. Aziraphale was still puzzled by the use of the word  _ angel _ . Perhaps it was just something Crowley called people, like ‘mate’. Maybe. “I’m doing this of my own volition. Though there is something you could do for me, I suppose.” 

There it was, the catch. Of course no one would agree to date him without something in it for themselves. 

“Certainly. What is it?” 

“I’d like you to let me take you out for coffee.” 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley. “Sorry, what?” 

Crowley looked slightly embarrassed. “I thought it would be good if we went out beforehand, to build our story. I’m sure your brother will have questions and we’ll need answers. How did we meet? What was our first date? Et cetera.” 

Ah, yes. That made sense. “Of course. You should at least let me pay for the coffee since I’m putting you out like this.” 

Crowley waved the concern away. “Nah. My treat. This is fun for me.” 

“Right…” It didn’t make much sense, but another glance at Anathema was unhelpful so Aziraphale decided he’d have to accept it. It would likely all go terribly, but at least he could temper his expectations. 

“Here, phone,” Crowley held out his hand and Aziraphale handed over his cell phone. Crowley stared at it. “This is...a flip phone.” 

“Yes.” Aziraphale scowled. “And it works just fine, thank you.” 

Crowley’s eyebrows rose as he flipped the phone open. “Been a while since I’ve seen one of these.” 

“Yes, well, I like it. It calls people, and that’s all I need a phone for.” 

“Uh huh.” Crowley tapped away and then handed the phone back. “My number. I hope you don’t mind that I sent myself a text so I’ll have yours.” 

Aziraphale shrugged. “They come with the plan. I’m not very good at texting, though.” 

“I’ll try to stick to calls. Look, I’ll give you a call tomorrow and we’ll figure out a time this weekend that works for coffee, alright?” 

“That sounds fine.” 

“Now, go grab some coffee or tea or something and let me fix your office phone.” Crowley shooed him out of his chair. 

“Come on, Aziraphale,” Anathema put an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go get some tea.” 

When he returned to his desk later Crowley was gone and when he called his office phone, the tone was a simple trilling ring. 

Friday was uneventful, thankfully. The office was abuzz with holiday plans since Christmas was only a week and a half away. It seemed like most folks were taking time off but Aziraphale only planned for the holiday itself. He wanted to limit his exposure to Gabriel and work was a great excuse. 

_ “Haven’t you earned enough vacation to take some time off?” Gabriel asked the year before as Aziraphale prepared to leave late that evening. “I can’t believe your office is open on Boxing Day.”  _

_ “I have some things that are time sensitive,” Aziraphale lied. “I’m only going in for a couple of hours so as not to fall behind.”  _

_ “You need a better job,” Gabriel shook his head. “If you were management this wouldn’t be a problem.” _

It was the same argument they had every year, but every year Gabriel let him leave. Aziraphale never understood why his brother was so insistent on keeping him there. They didn’t get along and all Gabriel liked to do was poke at him, make fun of him. Perhaps he missed having a punching bag whenever Aziraphale left. Whatever the case, it was his only solace, knowing he'd only have to suffer through a single night. 

Crowley didn’t call, he appeared. He sauntered right up to Aziraphale’s desk and took a seat, waiting patiently as Aziraphale finished typing his email. Finally, Aziraphale looked at him. 

“Yes?” He asked, leaning back in his office chair. 

“Coffee tomorrow,” Crowley grinned. “I was thinking one o’clock at this new place called the Owl’s Nest. It is in Soho.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale brightened at that. He lived in Soho. “That is very convenient for me. One o’clock is fine. I’ll look up the address.” 

“Great.” Crowley appeared to hesitate and Aziraphale wondered if he was having second thoughts. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

Aziraphale swore Crowley was blushing but wondered if it was a trick of the light. It must have been. “As am I. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Crowley pushed away from the desk. “See you tomorrow, angel.” 

He began to walk away when Aziraphale finally mustered the courage to ask something that had been at the back of his mind. “Crowley?” 

“Mmhm?” He turned and peered at him over his sunglasses. 

“Why do you call me angel?” 

Crowley’s eyebrows rose and he glanced away. “Your hair catches the light sometimes and you look like you have a halo.” Then, quickly, “catch you later.” He was gone before Aziraphale could ask any follow-ups. 

Newt’s head popped up over their shared cubicle wall. “That all sounds like it is going well.” 

“I suppose.” Aziraphale replied as he looked back at his computer screen and wondered how he was expected to work.

Come Saturday, Aziraphale was early. It was a blustery day and he’d worn his warmest coat, a knit hat pulled over his head and covering his ears. There was a slight drizzle pitter pattering around him as he stood beneath an awning in front of The Owl’s Nest. Outdoor tables had been pushed close to the building, chairs stacked to try and keep them out of the rain. 

Inside, through the window, the little cafe seemed comfortably occupied. It wasn’t crowded like some of the other shops that Aziraphale avoided. He only hoped they knew how to brew tea. He checked his watch to find it he was still ten minutes early and sighed. In the time he’d been waiting he could have walked to his apartment and back twice - The Owl’s Nest was that close. 

“You shouldn’t be waiting in the rain,” Crowley’s voice startled him and he jumped. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Thought you saw me.” 

“It, er, it is quite alright.” Great, he was off to a good start. “And I didn’t...I, well, just thought it was more polite to wait here for you.” 

Crowley smiled then, something kind and soft as he stepped past Aziraphale and held open the door. “After you.” 

Aziraphale mumbled a ‘thank you’ as he stepped inside the much warmer coffee shop. The smell of espresso was strong, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg hanging in the air. Scattered across the floor space were comfortable looking armchairs in various earth tone patterns, a couple of couches with coffee tables near them, and toward the back an area with more traditional tables. 

A quick glance around the room yielded a surprising variety of people taking up space. There were young folks on laptops working away, other folks of all ages sitting in pairs or trios, discussing this or that. In one corner a group of four women occupied arm chairs and appeared to be animatedly discussing books. 

Aziraphale startled again when a hand came to rest on his lower back. “Sorry,” Crowley murmured right beside his ear. “I seem to keep startling you.” 

“Quite alright,” Aziraphale breathed out as he swallowed around his nerves. He allowed Crowley to lead him with his hand on his back up to the counter. “How’s the tea?” 

“Probably fine. I normally get a latte.” 

“Ah, a coffee drinker then.” 

Crowley flashed him a smirk. “Have to keep my energy up otherwise I might sleep all day.” 

“Tea has caffeine.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose. 

“It just isn’t the same as a strong espresso.” Crowley shrugged and they stepped up to the counter when it was their turn to order. “I’ll take a medium latte, extra shot, extra foam, extra hot, and whatever he wants to drink.” 

“Oh!” Aziraphale was taken aback. “Certainly you’ll let me pay for this, dear boy.” 

“Nope.” Crowley handed over his credit card. “Better just order.” 

The barista smiled knowingly at them, though Aziraphale was quite sure she was getting the wrong impression entirely. He blushed. 

“I’ll take a chai,” he decided after looking over the menu. Suddenly English Breakfast seemed far too plain compared to Crowley’s drink. He didn’t mind the occasional break from the norm. 

“And how about one of your orange cranberry scones,” Crowley added as he bent over to glance at the glass display. 

“Would you like it warmed up?” 

“Nah, just split in half.” 

Aziraphale held his tongue. He was very fond of cranberry and would allow Crowley this one indulgence. He’d have to figure out a way to pay him back eventually. Perhaps if he had enough cash in his wallet he could slip it into Crowley’s pocket to make up for it all. 

“Go find us a seat,” Crowley suggested, nudging Aziraphale with his shoulder. “I’ll bring the drinks.” 

“Right.” Aziraphale looked around and settled on a table for two tucked against a large window. It let in what little light managed to force its way through the rain clouds and he had to admit, he liked looking through a rain soaked window. It provided a different perspective of the city. He walked over and shrugged off his coat and took off his hat, fussing with his hair in the reflection before settling. 

Crowley arrived a few moments later balancing two to-go mugs and a scone on a plate. He carefully set them down and then dropped unceremoniously onto the chair, sprawling. Aziraphale couldn’t help but take in the long line of his legs and didn’t miss the way their feet bumped under the table. Instead of focusing on that, he reached out for his tea and brought it close, popping the lid off in order to inhale the spice. 

When he glanced up he found Crowley had removed his sunglasses and was watching him intently. It made Aziraphale blush. 

“You wear those a lot.” He tapped the sunglasses folded on the table. 

“Sensitive eyes. It isn’t bad, but sometimes it is easier to wear them all the time so it becomes a normal thing. I like the lighting in here though, its soft.” 

Now that he mentioned it, Aziraphale had to admit the lighting was soft and cozy. “Well, you have lovely eyes.” He said it before he realized the implication and sputtered. “I mean, I - I didn’t mean that  _ strangely _ I just, they’re...er-” 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley laughed. “Compliments are always welcome. You can tell me I’m handsome, too, I wouldn’t mind.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at that. “You, well, I…” 

“I’m joking. Kind of. But I mean it, don’t feel weird about complimenting people. I think  _ you _ have lovely eyes.” Crowley leaned back and took a casual sip of his latte. 

“You do?” Aziraphale had always found them rather boring. Plain. Much like the rest of him, really. Gabriel’s eyes had different shades of color and in certain light looked nearly violet. People had always complimented his eyes, his hair, his face, his physique…

“Hey,” Crowley nudged him with his foot and Aziraphale was broken out of his thoughts. “I said yes, they’re like the English sea. Sort of grey, sort of blue.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale took a sip of his tea. “Well thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. So, this party.” 

“Ah, yes.” Aziraphale deflated a bit. It was the reason they were out, after all. It wasn’t as if this were a  _ real _ date. “How should we start?” 

“Let’s begin with who is going to be there, what to expect, and then figure out how to answer questions we might get.” 

Aziraphale explained the set-up. It was a relatively small affair, despite Gabriel spending far too much money and hiring a private chef. It would be Gabriel, his wife Michael, Aziraphale and Crowley of course, then close friends of the family. Sandalphon, for one, who two years ago started working as his personal accountant and, apparently, became a fast friend. Then there would be Dagon who was Aziraphale’s age and practically a cousin. He and Gabriel’s parents had been good friends with her parents and they’d all grown up together. Gabriel invited her begrudgingly, as she could be a little odd, but was probably the most tolerable of the bunch in Aziraphale’s opinion.

Sometimes, if there were colleagues in town, Gabriel would invite them but it was always a toss-up and Aziraphale never remembered their names anyway. They rarely paid him any attention. 

They were halfway done with their drinks when silence fell between them and Crowley appeared to be thinking. Aziraphale let him, taking slow sips of his chai, letting the spices settle on his tongue before swallowing. 

“The best lies are usually close to the truth,” Crowley said, breaking the silence. “So we’ll say we met at work. I fixed your phone, asked you out to coffee. From there, we started seeing each other.” 

“How long have we been together?” 

“Two months?” Crowley shrugged. “Since this seems like it is going to be a surprise to Gabriel anyway, it would make sense we haven’t been together long. By the time we get to the Christmas party it will be at least half-true.” 

If they were together, Crowley meant. They could pretend for a week and a half which didn’t seem anywhere near two months but he understood the point. 

“We should go on a few dates,” Crowley continued. “Take pictures. That way we have something to show if someone asks.” 

“Right.” Aziraphale’s stomach tightened and he looked at the rest of his chai with a sick feeling. This was humiliating, he realized, probably even more-so for Crowley. How could he seem so casual about it all? Perhaps it was just a bit of fun for him, a lark. 

He realized his hands were shaking when one of Crowley’s rested steadily atop one of his. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked softly and Aziraphale dared to look up. He found golden eyes brimming with concern. “Too much?” 

Aziraphale dropped his gaze to the table. “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this.” 

“You haven’t dragged me into anything.” Crowley sighed and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “This seems difficult for you to believe but I  _ want _ to help you. This has been an enjoyable afternoon.” 

“I don’t want to go on fake dates.” 

“Then let me take you on real ones.” 

Aziraphale’s head shot up. “What?” 

“Look,” Crowley tapped his hand. “You’re fun to hang out with, I’ve been looking for an excuse to be more social, we can go on a few dates. Friends go out, right? And friendship can look an awful lot like a relationship when spun the right way. So how about you agree to hanging out with me as a friend and we build our story on that.” 

“Ah.” Just friends. Right. Perhaps that made the most sense. “Yes, I think...I think that’s a better way to look at it.” He tried to ignore the mounting disappointment that swooped in to steal the single moment of  _ hope _ he’d had. Of course Crowley hadn’t meant they could actually date. 

“Then we’re agreed. Let’s start tomorrow? I think there’s a little tree lighting ceremony at a park near my house. It is a community thing, they dress up a couple of the trees in the park for the holidays.” He smiled. “There will be free hot chocolate.” 

It would likely be the powdered stuff poured into hot water, but hot chocolate was hot chocolate. “That sounds like a lovely time. Will you text me the details?” 

They went to the tree lighting ceremony. And they went to lunch during the week. Crowley popped up at his cubicle with snacks and ideas. Anathema forced all four of them - Newt included - to take a long lunch hour on Christmas Eve. The office was open until the early afternoon and Aziraphale found the lunch helped ease some of his growing tension. 

“I’ll pick you up in the early afternoon?” Crowley asked as he walked Aziraphale to the train station near their office. He drove, Aziraphale tried not to. He had a little beater car he kept parked at his building but used it only when he needed to travel out of the city. It would be nice to be driven for once, as he wasn’t a fan of winding country roads. 

“Yes. Around twelve-thirty should suffice. I’m afraid my brother will expect us for cocktails and  hors d'oeuvres by three at the latest, and he usually prefers it when I show up earlier.” 

“We can grab something at the Owl’s Nest before we leave then. Tea for you, coffee for me, and one of the scones you like.” 

“That sounds lovely.” Aziraphale smiled shyly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Crowley.” 

“See you then, angel.” 

Aziraphale disappeared into the tube station and didn’t look back. He spent the evening wrapping gifts, including a smaller one he had picked up for Crowley, before he drank some chamomile and did his best to get some rest. 

The next day he fussed over his outfit. Whatever he wore he knew Gabriel would criticize it, so he’d stopped trying to appease him years ago. Instead he wore what he thought was comfortable and seasonally appropriate. It worked out to be a dark red button-up with a lovely green and black argyle sweater vest. He wore his least favorite pair of black linen trousers because his favorite pairs were all in shades of cream and brown, none of which paired well with the rest of his ensemble. 

He donned a ridiculous Christmas themed bowtie, tartan with Christmas trees all over it. It clashed horribly with the rest, but that was the  _ point _ . It was festive. 

Aziraphale fussed with his hair, brushed his teeth, and then gathered up his things before he headed down the stairs from his flat into the sprawling space that acted as book storage. He’d purchased the small building years ago with his inheritance, investing in a place to keep his collection. It was zoned for retail, with a living space above, but he had no interest in opening up a shop. At least, not yet. The thought of letting any of his texts go was heartbreaking. 

He wished his books a Merry Christmas and walked out the door. He was five minutes early, but Crowley already waited outside for him. He put his parcels in the boot and slid into the passenger side. 

“You live above a shop?” Crowley asked, before even a greeting. He looked puzzled. 

“Er, well. It isn’t a  _ proper _ shop. I didn’t really want to open up a shop, but I do live above it. I use the downstairs for storage, mostly.” 

“I’m sorry, you rent that entire building?” 

“Not rent, no,” Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat up. “I own it, dear.” 

“Own it?” 

“Yes.” Aziraphale glanced down at his shoes. “My parents left me and my brother a healthy inheritance, I used that to purchase it.” 

“Oh.” Crowley reached over and touched Aziraphale’s hand. “I’m sorry. You, well, in all of our preparation you never mentioned your parents. I just assumed there was bad blood or something.” 

“No, no. Just. They passed, when I was barely an adult. An accident.” He shook his head. “Please, I don’t want to bring down the mood. It is Christmas, after all.” 

“You’re right. Happy Christmas, angel.” Crowley smiled. “I’ve even go some music to set the mood.” 

“Most excellent.” 

They listened to classical Christmas music as they made their way out of the city and onto winding country roads. Gabriel lived out on a ridiculously posh estate that he rarely ever stayed in, so busy with running business in the States and other parts of the country. If Crowley had been impressed by Aziraphale’s little building, then he was going to be mortified by the behemoth that was Gabriel’s house. 

_ Silver Bells _ was playing when Aziraphale indicated the unfortunate turn into a long, winding driveway. Gabriel’s home was set well off the road, a sprawling grass garden and shrubs between it and the motorway. Crowley whistled, Aziraphale sank into the seat. 

“Hell of a place.” 

“Yes, well. Some of us have taste and others have...this.” 

Crowley snorted. “Please, angel, tell me how you really feel.” 

“I’m not a fan of space without purpose. Just wait until you see the inside. He’s got so many rooms he never even uses. We’ll probably take up less than a quarter of the available spaces for this extravagant Christmas party of maybe six people.” Aziraphale sighed as Crowley pulled up to park. 

Then Crowley turned in his seat to look at him and Aziraphale glanced over. “Why do you keep coming back?” 

“What?” Aziraphale frowned. 

“If this is such a horrible event, why do you keep doing it to yourself year after year?” Crowley looked puzzled. “You know you have a choice.” 

“Ah.” Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t. Not really. He’s  _ family _ , Crowley. He’s all I have left and he’s still my brother, my issues with him aside.” 

“Right.” Crowley reached out and touched Aziraphale’s hand. “If at any point you need an excuse to leave, you should have a word or a phrase or something. I’m good at excuses. I can come down with a stomach bug really quick when I need to.” 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Crowley gripping his stomach and running to the bathroom, faking sounds and horrifying his brother all seemed wonderful. “Thank you. How about this, I’ll say ‘oh, where’s the mistletoe?’ and you can take that to mean that I'd like to wrap up somewhat quickly.” 

“Where’s the mistletoe it is, then.” Crowley grinned and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “Come on, angel. Let’s get the presents and head in.” 

They gathered packages from the back and Aziraphale realized that Crowley had brought a couple gifts, too, including a bottle of wine for the hosts. 

“You know you didn’t need to, dear,” Aziraphale insisted as they approached the front door. 

“I know, but it seemed appropriate. I want to make a good impression, after all.” 

“Of course.” Aziraphale knocked on the door. Gabriel answered, dressed as sharply as ever in a tailored suit. The only thing that reflected the holiday was his tie, a gaudy thing that lit up. Aziraphale was certain Michael had convinced him to wear it, otherwise he wouldn’t be caught dead in it. He’d have to thank her later. 

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel stepped back and motioned them in. “Come in, come in. And hello, you must be Aziraphale’s mysterious partner.” Aziraphale didn’t miss the appraising look that Gabriel gave Crowley and it made him want to growl. Gabriel grabbed Crowley by the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You are not at all what I was expecting. Who knew my boring little brother could snag someone who actually knew how to dress?” 

Crowley had chosen a dark red shirt similar to Aziraphale’s own and over that he wore a dark, low cut waistcoat. On top of all of that was a leather jacket he seemed to favor. Everything about him was sharp and dark and  _ handsome _ and Gabriel was right. Aziraphale would never be able to catch the eye of someone like him under normal circumstances. 

“Even the sunglasses are designer. I bet he didn’t even notice though, huh? Typical. He wouldn’t know style if it hit him over the head.” Gabriel laughed and it was a terrible, booming thing. This, Aziraphale realized, was the moment he’d feared. Crowley would agree, would laugh along, maybe to be polite or maybe because it was true, and Aziraphale would fade into the background and try to be forgotten. 

Instead, Crowley shrugged out from under Gabriel’s hand. “I actually find he’s quite handsome and has a better sense of genuine style than I ever will. Where’s the lady of the house? I brought a bottle of wine I’d like to give to her.” 

Gabriel’s face fell and his eyes narrowed for a moment before he washed that look away and plastered on a fake smile. “Right, of course. I’ll introduce you to my wife, she’s right through here.” 

Aziraphale watched Crowley get herded off as he took his gifts over to the Christmas tree in the sitting room. He set them delicately beneath the lowest branches and inhaled the scent of fresh pine. It was dressed in lights and garland, a few ornaments tucked away here and there. One in particular caught his eye and he reached out to touch it. It was a gaudy thing, glitter mostly worn away from the outline of the London Eye, but he remembered the day he and Gabriel had picked it out. Their parents had taken them on it after a lot of begging and they’d gone to the gift shop afterward. 

The ornament was what they’d come away with. Aziraphale didn’t remember seeing it in previous years. It, or any of the others. 

“I’m glad you noticed it,” a familiar and warm voice said from behind him. Aziraphale shot up and turned, his face breaking into a grin. 

“Madame Tracy!” He crossed the few steps over to her and embraced her. She laughed and hugged him back. 

“Aziraphale, dear. It has been a while, hasn’t it?” 

“Something like eight years, not that I’ve been counting.” He squeezed her. She’d been the housekeeper and general nanny when they’d been growing up. After the accident, though he and Gabriel were adults, she continued to mother them until she found love late in her life and moved to Scotland with him. 

She’d turned down Christmas invitations, citing difficulty traveling. Her husband, Mr. Shadwell, also wasn’t a fan of traveling as a general rule. 

“Now let me get a real look at you.” She held him at arm’s length and he worried for a moment that she would be disappointed. “No, still quite the handsome young man. Oh, you have your mother’s eyes don’t you.” Madame Tracy reached up to brush her thumb along his cheek. “Yes, quite like her.” 

“I’m so glad you’re here. Did Mr. Shadwell make the journey as well?” 

“Oh, yes, but he’s already been into the eggnog and I’m afraid there’s no pulling him away from it or the big screen telly Gabriel showed off during the tour.” She smiled fondly. “Gabriel told me you were going to be accompanied by a young man, did he already get swept up in the madness?” 

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He wasn’t technically  _ lying _ to Madame Tracy, was he? He had come to the party with Crowley. But this complicated things. Fibbing to Gabriel was one thing but to her? Well, that changed a few things. He’d need to see if he could get Crowley alone to explain. 

“We should go rescue him and you can introduce us.” Madame Tracy took his arm and led him back through the entryway and toward the dining room. That is where they found Gabriel, his wife Michael, and Crowley. Crowley appeared to be ignoring Gabriel in favor of talking animatedly with Michael about the wine. 

Gabriel glanced over as they entered. “Ah, Aziraphale, you found Tracy.” 

Aziraphale resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Despite all his years, he couldn’t refer to her as anything but  _ Madame _ Tracy. It only seemed proper. “I did. You didn’t tell me she was coming?” 

“Must have slipped my mind.” 

“Aziraphale,” Michael smiled over at him. “You neglected to tell Gabriel what a charming young man Crowley is. Neither of you should have felt obligated to bring wine!” 

“Oh, well, that was all Crowley, really. Which, Crowley, I’d like you to meet Madame Tracy. She’s a very good friend of the family.” 

Crowley left Michael with the wine and walked over, offering his hand. “Anthony Crowley, but everyone calls me Crowley.” 

Madame Tracy shook his hand. “And I am to assume you take good care of my dear Aziraphale?” 

“I certainly try, ma’am.” Crowley squeezed her hand before releasing it, looking at Aziraphale over his glasses. “I hope he agrees.” 

Aziraphale blushed and Madame Tracy looked between them and then smiled brightly. “Excellent. Make sure you continue to. My Aziraphale is a very sweet boy.” 

“I think I heard the door,” Gabriel grumbled as he excused himself from the room. 

“Don’t let him get to you, Aziraphale,” Michael said as she approached. “He’s a bit grumpy this time of year, but hopefully with a few glasses of wine he’ll cheer up. You look well and Crowley was just amazing me with his knowledge of wine…” 

The conversation for Aziraphale was surprisingly nice. Crowley seemed to carry it, lighting up the room with his charm and kindness. For all of his bad boy looks, he knew how to entertain a room and it seemed to keep Gabriel away. They all took up spaces in the sitting room with the tree, drinks in hand. Aziraphale stuck with a glass of wine - the one Crowley has brought - but Madame Tracy had a glass of eggnog. 

“So how did you two meet?” Madame Tracy asked. Aziraphale was sitting with Crowley on a loveseat, all too aware of the way their thighs were pressed together. 

“Well,” Crowley smiled and paused for dramatic effect. “He needed his phone fixed at work and with anything, the IT ticket process moves slowly in the corporate world. That didn’t stop Aziraphale, though. He marched down to the basement, subjected himself to the whims of my coworkers, and insisted that someone come up and fix his phone immediately.” 

It wasn’t  _ quite _ what they’d rehearshed, but it was close enough and it was certainly the truth. Aziraphale rolled his eyes in false exasperation at the dramatics and took a sip of his wine. 

“We got to talking at his desk and I was enamored. I had to ask him out, so I did.” 

“I’d hardly say you were  _ enamored _ ,” Aziraphale offered. 

“Who is telling the story here, angel? If I say I was enamored, then I was enamored.” And there was something in the look Crowley gave him that made it seem true. He blushed and shyly ducked his head, his cheek brushing Crowley’s shoulder. 

Crowley put his arm around him and tugged him in close. _ All part of the show _ , Aziraphale reminded himself as he tried to ignore how nice it felt to sink into his side and settle. The conversation thankfully took a turn as Madame Tracy shared about her life in Scotland, about Mr. Shadwell, and their upcoming travel to Greece (despite his protests). Guests continued to trickle in, announced by Gabriel. There was Dagon who came in with snow dusted hair, complaining that it was coming down ‘like a mother’, to which Gabriel responded by chastising her language. 

“Sorry,” she replied. “It is coming down like a  _ mother fucker _ .” 

Gabriel frowned but said nothing more. Sandalphon was next, all slow smiles and unblinking eyes. Aziraphale nudged Crowley who had been listening intently to Michael’s conversation with Madame Tracy. He looked over, then leaned down to whisper in Aziraphale’s ear. 

“Sandalphon?” 

“That obvious?” Aziraphale asked. 

“The dead eyes gave him away.” 

Aziraphale giggled and pressed closer to Crowley, who in return squeezed him gently. It was nice, he supposed, even if it was pretend. Who was to say friends couldn’t sit like this, too? If they were nothing else they were at the very least friends. 

“Aziraphale,” Sandalphon’s low voice greeted him as he approached the loveseat. “Lovely seeing you.” His eyes flicked to Crowley. “Is this your partner I’ve been hearing so much about?” 

Crowley stood up from the loveseat and Aziraphale immediately missed his warmth. “Crowley,” he said and offered his hand which Sandalphon pointedly didn’t take. He slid it back into his pocket and stepped artfully between Sandalphon and Aziraphale. “Come on, angel, I think I could use a refill of wine.” 

“Oh, right.” Aziraphale scrambled up and allowed Crowley to lead them both out of the room, Sandalphon watching with narrowed eyes. 

“He’s creepy,” Crowley murmured into his ear. “You weren’t joking.” 

“He would have likely murdered me,” Aziraphale admitted. “I can’t believe Gabriel wanted me to date  _ him _ .” 

“A good thing you’re here with me instead.” Crowley poured them both another glass of wine. The bottle he’d brought was already gone, but there was a more than ample selection. 

“Yes. I dare say I’m actually enjoying myself.” 

At that, Crowley’s face lit up. “You have no idea how happy that makes me, angel.” 

“Oh hush.” 

“I’m serious. You deserve to enjoy Christmas.” Crowley held up his glass. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers, my dear.” He touched the edges of their glasses together as they both took a sip. 

“Toasting already?” Michael asked as she stepped into the room, all elegance and quiet beauty. She was a fierce lady when she wanted to be, but had always been kind to Aziraphale. Or, as kind as she could be with her husband standing between them. 

“Always a reason to toast, Michael. Especially around the holidays.” Crowley tipped his glass toward her before he took another drink. 

“Well, feel free to take a seat in the dining room you two. Dinner will be served soon. It is so strange not to be cooking it myself but Gabriel insisted on a chef…” She shrugged. “I’m going to go supervise.” 

With that, she disappeared toward the kitchen and Aziraphale led Crowley to the dining room. They had place settings and Crowley and Aziraphale were seated next to each other. Across from Aziraphale would be Michael, both of them sitting near the head of the table where Gabriel would be. As folks trickled in Madame Tracy took a seat beside Crowley, her husband next to her, Sandalphon across and beside him, Dagon. 

“Unfortunately Mike and Linda, my colleague and his wife, were unable to make it. They said they didn’t want to chance it with the snow. It shouldn’t stick around too long but better safe than sorry,” Gabriel explained as he took his place at the head of the table. Servers, likely associated with the chef, hustled around the table to bring everyone the first course: some sort of soup, perhaps butternut squash, but whatever it was it smelled divine. 

“Before we begin,” Gabriel continued once all the places were set. “I’d like to toast to another year of friends, family, and success. I’m glad to see everyone here and that you allowed us to once again host you all in our beautiful home. Cheers to a happy Christmas.” 

It  _ was _ butternut squash soup, Aziraphale found after the first bite. Every bit as good as the last one he’d had in a little restaurant in Soho. Crowley appeared to eat his far more slowly. 

“Not to your taste?” Aziraphale asked quietly. 

“I’m not much of a soup person to be honest.” 

“Well, hopefully you’ll find the next courses to be to your liking. I’ve noticed you’re not much of a food person though.” 

“No. I like it well enough but I don’t think anyone appreciates it anywhere near as much as you do. You’re a treat to watch, you know that? Savoring every bite like it is the best thing you’ve ever had.” 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale swatted his arm. No one had ever described his eating like that before. “Hush.” 

“He’s a big eater, our Aziraphale,” Gabriel chimed in, having clearly heard the last bit of their conversation. It was, after all, his favorite topic. “Probably why he’s gone so soft around the middle. You know, last year I purchased a gym membership for him for Christmas and he never used it. I checked, just to see.” 

“I don’t particularly like going to the gym,” Aziraphale admitted. “It was a thoughtful gift but time doesn’t really permit -” 

“It could if you’d make it a priority. You know, you should be more conscious of your health, Aziraphale. It can’t be good carrying around a gut like yours.” 

“My health is a topic between me and my physician, thank you,” Aziraphale answered, trying not to be too prickly. It would just fuel Gabriel. 

“And what do they say?” 

“Why is that any of your business?” Crowley asked and somehow made it sound casual. “I didn’t realize you were his personal health consultant. Do you work in the healthcare industry?” 

There was a hush that fell around the table at Crowley’s tone and Aziraphale was mortified. 

“No,” Gabriel answered. “I’m just concerned.” 

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I’m not sure there’s anything to be concerned about. I know I’m quite content with Aziraphale the way he is and as long as he’s happy and healthy by his standards, then I’m happy.” Crowley shrugged. “You should be, too.” 

Gabriel frowned. “I’m just trying to look out for my little brother. If you knew him, you’d understand.” 

“You see, I  _ do _ know him and I  _ don’t _ understand. I’ve never once taken a look at him and thought ‘oh, I ought to mention something to him about his health’. I don’t imagine most people in this room have, either. I think that lies solely with you, and your invested interest is a bit strange.” Crowley stared him down and Aziraphale wished he could disappear. 

“Perhaps I overstepped,” Gabriel admitted. “I apologize.” 

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to him.” 

“Gabriel you don’t -” 

“No, Gabriel, you really do,” Crowley interrupted. 

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale,” Gabriel grit out. “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“There you go. Conversation ended. Now, can we talk about the wonderful chef you’ve employed for the evening?” 

The conversations were directed away from Aziraphale the rest of the evening, much to his delight. Before dessert, Sandalphon admitted he ought to be going. The snow hadn’t stopped and he was worried about getting home. Gabriel showed him out, handing him a gift as he went and wishing him a safe journey. Dagon followed soon after. 

“Don’t want to get trapped here,” she said. 

“You know you’d be welcome to stay the night, and I don’t think it is going to be all that terrible.” 

“Sorry Gabe. Appreciate the dinner, but I ought to be off.” She gave him a courteous hug and then disappeared into the evening. 

Aziraphale had Crowley check the weather on his phone while he helped Michael in the kitchen. 

“I had to make something,” she explained. “Managed to convince Gabriel to let me make the desserts. The pie is an old family recipe. I’ve made pumpkin and apple, along with some raspberry tarts. Thought it would be a nice spread.” 

“They all look lovely, Michael.” He picked up the two pies while she manned the plates with the tarts. 

“Aziraphale,” she said gently and it got his attention. He paused and looked at her. “I’m really glad you have Crowley.” 

“Oh.” He glanced away. “Yes. Er. Me too.” 

“He seems good for you. I know Gabriel won’t say it, but I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a long time.” 

Aziraphale’s heart twisted in a vice. “Crowley has that effect on people.” 

“I can see that. And I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable. Come on, let’s get dessert out to the rest of the party.” 

They ate dessert and chatted back in the front room, Mr. Shadwell finally joining them. He mostly watched the fire and sipped eggnog, deep in thought. The gift exchange was nice enough. Gabriel bought him what had to have been the fanciest fitbit on the planet and a shirt a size too small for him. 

“For encouragement,” he grumbled, no longer as excited as he likely would have been without Crowley’s impervious stare. He’d ditched the sunglasses after they’d transitioned into a room with softer light and looked all the more intimidating for it. “I hope they’re helpful,” Gabriel finished. 

Aziraphale had purchased a very expensive bottle of whiskey for Gabriel which he seemed impressed by, with a muttered ‘thank you’. For Michael, he’d bought a lovely cashmere sweater and scarf which she fawned over. He apologized profusely to Madame Tracy who had knit all of them sweaters (except Crowley, to whom she promised a sweater as soon as she could knit one) and she assured him that she needed nothing except to spend time with her boys. 

As the night wound down Aziraphale gave Crowley a tour of the house, slightly tipsy on wine. They made it as far as the back patio, currently blanketed in a layer of snow, before they were distracted. 

“Oh Crowley, I’ve not seen it snow like this in quite some time.” He slid open the door and stepped out into the cold, shivering. Snowflakes were falling rapidly and he was hardly dressed for it. His footsteps crunched as he stepped further out into a winter wonderland, gazing at everything in awe. 

Crowley stepped up behind him and Aziraphale turned to him, smiling at the way the snowflakes dusted Crowley’s lovely red hair. He reached up to brush it away, only for more to fall and replace it. “Oh, you’ve got one right on the tip of your nose.” He brushed it away with a fingertip and Crowley caught his hand. 

“You’ve got one right here,” Crowley whispered as he brought Aziraphale’s hand to his mouth, laying a kiss against his palm, and then his wrist. 

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, the alcohol pounding through his system and turning his brain to mush. Crowley was kissing him, brushing his lips to goose pimpled skin as snow fell around them. What was he to make of it? They’d both had quite a bit to drink and snow  _ was _ romantic. Perhaps he’d just been caught up in the moment and Aziraphale ought to pull away, insist he knew Crowley didn’t  _ really _ mean it. No one like him could possibly want to do this with Aziraphale. 

The decision was taken from him when Madame Tracy’s voice came from the doorway. “You two lovebirds will catch cold if you stay out there much longer. Come inside where it is warm.” 

The spell was broken then as Crowley released his hand and Aziraphale turned away and hustled inside. Crowley followed. They stomped the snow off their feet on a mat inside and brushed the rest off of shoulders and heads. Aziraphale didn’t look at Crowley again until they were back in the sitting room, the small gift he’d wanted to give him burning a hole in his pocket but after that show, he wasn’t sure it was an appropriate thing to give. 

“Well,” Gabriel announced to the remaining visitors who had settled once more in the sitting room. “They’ve instituted a travel ban for the area. Apparently the snow is meant to continue into the night and the roads are already a mess. Plows won’t be through until the morning.” 

“Mr. Shadwell and I were planning to stay another night anyway,” Madame Tracy explained to Aziraphale who looked around the room as panic began to set in. “But of course there’s more than enough room for the two of you to settle in.” 

“Certainly the roads aren’t that bad yet,” Aziraphale insisted, his heart pounding. Crowley hadn’t agreed to  _ this _ . To staying the night, to breakfast, to being forced to endure Gabriel’s hospitality any longer. He would hate Aziraphale for this. 

Gabriel looked grim, as if the news didn’t delight him nearly as much as Aziraphale expected it to. After all, his brother was always looking for new ways to torment him. 

“I’m afraid it  _ is _ that bad. I suppose Sandalphon and Dagon had the right of it earlier. Of course Tracy is entirely right, our home is more than big enough to host. It isn’t as if you two take up anything more than a single room. I’ll see if I can’t find some comfortable clothes for you to wear.” 

A steady hand rested on his upper arm and he glanced over at Crowley who looked concerned. “It is just for a night, angel,” he assured him. “We’ll be alright.” 

“Right. Of course.” He looked away and tried not to think about sharing a bed with Crowley all night. They couldn’t very well ask for separate rooms, after all. 

They were shown to their room, which didn’t have an ensuite like Tracy’s room did but they did have their own bathroom just down the hallway. It was large, with a sofa and a dresser and even a wardrobe, along with a queen sized bed. 

“Make yourselves at home, please,” Michael insisted. “Gabriel found these. I hope they fit alright.” 

The sweatpants provided did fit, even if they were a bit tight around Aziraphale’s thighs. They’d work for a night, and he’d sleep in them and his undershirt. On Crowley, the pair of sweats Gabriel had found for him were too baggy, his legs far too thin and long. They ended just above his ankles. 

The two of them changed facing away from each other and used borrowed toothbrushes to take turns in the bathroom attending to their nightly routine. By the time the lights were out and they were laying in bed, the dread in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach had grown to the size of a watermelon. 

He regretted the amount of alcohol he’d had as he was certain it was about to come back up. 

“Crowley?” His voice shook. 

“Yeah?” Aziraphale heard the rustle of sheets and felt Crowley turn toward him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “This is so much more than you signed up for and now you’re stuck here, with me, and I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must be. You’ve been so kind and I don’t even know how I could begin to repay you.” The bed creaked and then, to Aziraphale’s surprise, Crowley settled over him. His head was bracketed by Crowley’s arms, up on his elbows, golden eyes catching light from just outside the window. 

“Angel,” he whispered back, breath warm and mouth so close to his own. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” 

“That can’t be true.” Aziraphale closed his eyes against the tears that gathered in them. 

“For someone so clever it is amazing how stupid you can be.” Crowley shifted and his warm hand cupped the side of Aziraphale’s face. His thumb brushed away a few disobedient tears. “Would you look at me?” 

Aziraphale swallowed and opened his eyes, peering at Crowley through blurred vision as he sniffled. 

“You are kind, and handsome, and witty,” Crowley murmured, his thumb continue to stroke against Aziraphale’s cheek. “You are interesting, thoughtful, and your love of literature is absolutely inspiring. I think your sense of style belongs in a museum but somehow you make it work and all I can imagine is how your wool jumpers would feel beneath my fingers as I peeled them off of you.” 

Aziraphale’s breath hitched and his eyes widened. There was a soft ringing in his ears. He shut his eyes tightly right after and turned his face into Crowley’s hand, wanting nothing more than to hide. A voice in his head called Crowley a liar, but there was something soft and genuine about his words that made Aziraphale want to tremble apart. 

Crowley nuzzled his ear. “In the snow earlier I kissed your hand but what I really wanted to do was kiss you. You looked like an angel then, white snow on white-blonde hair, dotting the shoulders of your ridiculous vest. I’ve been chasing after you since you helped me get a wine stain out of my shirt at the holiday party and this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to getting you to  _ see _ that.” 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale whined, not sure what else to do, what else to say.  _ Liar _ echoed through his mind but he wanted to believe Crowley. 

“I changed your phone ringtone to ‘Sexy Back’ because I thought it was flirting,” Crowley whispered. 

Aziraphale shoved him and sat up. “You  _ what _ !” 

“That’s what gets a reaction?” Crowley asked in disbelief, eyes wide, mouth agape. “ _ That _ ? I fixed it, didn’t I!” 

“I thought someone did it to  _ mock _ me! I was tormented by that ringtone for  _ months! _ ” 

“Keep your voice down,” Crowley hissed. “You’ll wake the house.” 

“Oh, like that bloody ringtone caught the attention of everyone in the office? I can’t tell you how many times I had to hear it hummed in the elevator, or had colleagues title emails with that song as the theme. ‘Bringing Spreadsheets Back’, Crowley, that’s what I had to live with!” 

“I was trying to  _ flirt _ !” Crowley threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m  _ sorry _ .” 

Aziraphale let out a slow breath. “You’ve really been trying to get my attention this entire time?” 

Crowley looked bashful for once. “I didn’t mean for the ticket to get put on the back burner for so long. I thought I’d get to it sooner, so I had an excuse to talk to you.” 

“Why me?” Aziraphale didn’t get it. How could someone like Crowley have been pining over him for months? For nearly a year, really, if it had been going on since the holiday party. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said what I said earlier, angel.” Crowley scooted forward on his knees, settling in the space between Aziraphale’s legs. “Do I need to repeat myself?” 

“No,” Aziraphale answered, not sure he could survive more compliments. 

“If you want me to knock it off, to back off, I will,” Crowley insisted. “But I like you, Aziraphale. Tonight solidified that for me, and being stuck in this bed with you is exciting if...well. If it is exciting for you.” 

Aziraphale glanced away. “Nerve wracking,” he admitted. “I haven’t...I’ve not shared a bed with anyone since University.” 

“I didn’t mean we had to do anything.” 

“I know. I just mean, even platonically. I’ve been alone for quite some time my dear boy. I don’t think I’ve ever found anyone who thought me interesting.” 

“That has to be a lie,” Crowley replied. “My guess is you just didn’t see it. And if not, well, everyone’s loss is my gain.” 

“You have a very high opinion of me,” Aziraphale said with a tired smile. Crowley huffed and put his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Shyly, Aziraphale put his arms around Crowley’s too-skinny waist. It was strange to hold and be held. 

They remained like that for a moment until they began to tip over and Aziraphale made a startled sound. Crowley ended up pressed beneath him on the bed and when he scrambled to try and get up and off of him, Crowley’s arms tightened. 

“Stay, angel,” Crowley said, voice gentle.

“I’ll crush you,” Aziraphale grumbled, even as he gave in and laid his head down on Crowley’s chest. Crowley hummed, clearly pleased. 

“It would take a lot more than you to crush me,” he replied. “Get comfortable.” 

Huffing, unsure how one was supposed to get comfortable while constantly fearing they’d crush someone, Aziraphale shifted so he was less on top of Crowley and more beside him. He draped one of his legs over Crowley’s, head shifting to his shoulder. His arm rested across Crowley’s chest and then he let out a long sigh and relaxed. 

“See?” Crowley murmured. “Not so bad.” 

Aziraphale hid his face against Crowley’s neck, unwilling to admit out loud just how nice it was to be close and warm to someone like that. Crowley shifted to reach down and yanked the blankets back up over them both. 

“Sleep,” Crowley insisted. “We can talk more in the morning.” 

“Alright.” Aziraphale didn’t really have any other option at that point. He closed his eyes. 

“Happy Christmas,” Crowley whispered after a few minutes of quiet. 

“Happy Christmas, Anthony.” Aziraphale smiled as Crowley huffed at the use of his first name. 

If Aziraphale thought falling asleep in someone’s arms was an alien experience, then waking up in a similar position was even moreso. With the light of day pouring through the space between the curtains there was a new clarity to his current situation. That situation being he, Aziraphale, lying on his side with Crowley plastered up against his back, snoring softly with his face pressed to the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. 

He had one arm slung over Aziraphale’s side, hand resting lax on the bed. And, in the midst of it all, Aziraphale felt the telltale sign of something hard flexing against his rear. He tried not to laugh. The last time he had found himself in a situation like this had been with a boyfriend in University who, similar to Crowley, liked to crowd him while they slept. 

It was a nice situation to be in, surprisingly. He was warm and secure and could ignore the world for a little while longer. He was thinking over their conversation the previous night when Crowley snorted awake. 

“Mmph.” Crowley nuzzled the back of his head and stilled. 

“Not a morning person?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley made another grunting sound, his arm curling around Aziraphale as he tried to burrow against him. “Snow or not, I would bet Gabriel has already gotten in a six mile run. He’s got a home gym, you know, with a treadmill and all of that.” 

“Gabriel is a prick,” Crowley grumbled. “You’re too awake.” 

“I’m a morning person, dear,” Aziraphale closed his eyes. “Though I’d stay in bed with you for a while if you’d like?” He hated how meek it sounded, how hopeful. Did Crowley want him? Really? In the light of day, when Aziraphale likely looked a mess in pajamas that weren’t his. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered against his ear, nuzzling behind it. “Stay.” 

Aziraphale relaxed and made a soft whining sound that made Crowley laugh softly. 

“This is usually when I’d have my hand down your pants,” Crowley murmured, his hand nowhere near Aziraphale’s groin. Instead, he splayed one hand against Aziraphale’s chest comfortingly. “But I think I might like this better.” 

“This is not to say you can’t ever have your hand down my pants,” Aziraphale replied, grateful Crowley couldn’t see his blush. “But I’m quite content as we are.” 

“Angel.” Crowley buried his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder. After a few minutes, Crowley’s breathing evened out and his hand went lax again. Aziraphale kept his eyes closed and rested as he attempted to memorize the curve of Crowley’s body, the warmth of him, and the weight of his arm pinning him down gently. 

Crowley woke up properly about an hour later, far more spry and aware than he had been. With a groan and a stretch, he shifted to sit up and Aziraphale did the same. 

“My brother will likely have breakfast waiting.” 

“Coffee?” Crowley asked, turning half lidded eyes to Aziraphale.

“Yes my dear, there will be coffee.” 

“Thank God.” 

They took turns in the shower, Aziraphale staying in the room until Crowley was done and then swapping with him. When he returned to the bedroom wrapped in a robe, hair sticking to his forehead, he caught Crowley’s eye. Crowley was already dressed, donning the outfit he’d worn the previous day, and he took a few pointed steps toward Aziraphale. 

“Hm?” Aziraphale swallowed around the nerves that pounced on him like a cat on a mouse, identifying very much with the mouse from the way Crowley considered him. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley lifted a hand to the side of his face and smiled. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Er, right now? As I am?” Aziraphale was hardly presentable. 

“Just as you are,” Crowley replied before he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Oh, it had been a long time since he’d experienced  _ that _ . It was soft and dry, not overwhelming in the least, and yet Aziraphale’s head spun as he reached out and curled his fingers in Crowley’s lapel to keep him close. 

Crowley tilted his head slightly for a better angle, fingers teasing Aziraphale’s curls and pushing a few stray, damp locks behind his ear. They broke apart and came back together a couple of times until the tease of Crowley’s tongue drew a shocked little noise out of Aziraphale and broke the spell. 

“Mm. Good morning.” Crowley’s smile was beautiful. 

“Quite.” Aziraphale’s mouth was dry. “Now, er, I ought to be getting dressed lest we keep Gabriel waiting any longer.” 

“Sure, angel.” Crowley gave him one more appraising look before he stepped out of the room to give him some privacy to get dressed. 

They headed downstairs and were greeted by Madame Tracy’s gentle smile. “You two look well rested. Had a bit of a lie-in, did you? There’s breakfast, tea, and coffee if you’re interested.” 

Spread out on the table was just that, including the leftover pie from Christmas dinner. Aziraphale plucked a chocolate croissant from a plate of pastries, along with some strawberries. He noticed Crowley, on the other hand, settled next to him at the table with only coffee in hand. He sipped it, hands wrapped around the mug possessively. 

“Strawberry?” Aziraphale offered, holding it up. Crowley glanced at him and then leaned in and bit from it. Aziraphale’s breath hitched. 

Madame Tracy laughed. “Saucy first thing in the morning, hm?” 

Crowley grinned like a fiend and a strange warmth spread across Aziraphale’s chest. He ate the rest of the strawberry, curious but unwilling to let Crowley’s lips touch his fingers. Madame Tracy was practically a surrogate mother to him and he would not have her witnessing wiles of that sort. 

“You’re blushing,” Crowley leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I like it.” 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale chastised him, giving him a look. Crowley shrugged and leaned back, sipping his coffee. All the while Madame Tracy smiled, sipping her tea. 

Gabriel joined them as they were finishing up with their food and coffee. He looked freshly showered, dressed in a sharp suit. “I’d join you all but I have some work I have to see to. Roads should be clear, we had someone come shovel the driveway and uncover your car, Crowley. You should be able to get back to London this evening.” 

Michael appeared from the kitchen. “What Gabriel means to say is you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, but please don’t feel obligated.” She smiled, and Aziraphale smiled back. Gabriel looked like he was biting back a grumble and merely glanced at his wife. 

“Right. Happy Christmas to you both. Pleasure to meet you Crowley.” With that, Gabriel took his coffee and disappeared. Aziraphale was floored. Normally in this situation he could expect some more ribbing, a question about what he’d eaten, or how well the pajamas had fit. Really, had Crowley not been there, he likely would have been woken early and offered a chance to go running with Gabriel. 

The offer, of course, would have been more of a demand. With that thought he reached out beneath the table and took a hold of Crowley’s hand, squeezing it. Crowley shot him a curious look but laced their fingers together and squeezed back, sipping his coffee. 

Michael took a piece of pie and slathered whipped cream on the top with a mischievous smile. 

Later in the morning Crowley went to check on the car and let it warm up, leaving Aziraphale standing with Madame Tracy near the Christmas tree. 

“He’s a rather nice lad, isn’t he.” She smiled. “And he’s head over heels for you.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly go that far.” Crowley liked him and that was enough. Madame Tracy made a contrary noise. 

“No, I’ve seen that sort of look before. But I suppose my real question is, are you happy?” 

“Yes.” The answer came out before he could really think about it. “I mean, I think we will be. Happy. I’m happy so far, and he makes me happy, so…” 

Madame Tracy squeezed his arm gently. “Good. That’s all I could want for you.” 

“Angel!” Crowley stepped back inside and stomped his snowy boots off on the mat. “Car is getting warmed up. You about ready to go?” 

“Of course. I should say goodbye to Michael before I leave, and perhaps stop in on Gabriel.” 

Crowley made a face at the mention of Gabriel, but nodded. 

“I’ll keep your young man company, dear. Go on.” Madame Tracy shoo’ed him off while she stepped up to Crowley. Aziraphale found Michael first. She’d moved to a sitting room and rose when he approached. 

“Heading out?” 

“Yes, I think we best get to it. This was already an unexpected day off.” 

Michael smiled gently. “I’m glad you came to spend Christmas with us.” She hugged him. “And it was lovely to meet Crowley.” 

They said their goodbyes as Aziraphale crept up the stairs and toward Gabriel’s office. He hesitated in the doorway, the door only half open. He could see his brother’s back. 

“We’re heading out, Gabriel.” Aziraphale said. “Thought I’d say goodbye.” 

Gabriel turned and gave Aziraphale a critical look before he stood and walked over. “Right. Well.” 

“Thank you for letting us stay over.” 

“Of course. Couldn’t have you going home in that mess last night.” Gabriel fidgeted, which was strange to see. “Look, Aziraphale…” He faltered. 

“It is alright Gabriel.” Aziraphale shook his head and then reached out to touch his brother’s arm. “I get it.” 

His older brother nodded curtly. “Get home safely.” 

“We’ll try. Perhaps the snow will convince Crowley to drive like less of a madman.” 

He headed downstairs and found Crowley in an animated conversation with Madame Tracy. The scene warmed his heart. He stepped up to them and received a gentle hug from Madame Tracy, along with a kiss to his cheek. 

Crowley drew him in next, much to his confusion, until their lips pressed together in a soft kiss. Aziraphale made an inquisitive sound and Crowley smiled against his lips and then pulled away, glancing up. 

Above the doorway was a sprig of mistletoe. Aziraphale blushed. 

“Go on you two, before you lose the whole day.” Madame Tracy ushered them out and watched from the porch as they walked to the car and got in. 

Crowley began the drive home, far more carefully than the drive to Gabriel’s had been. Aziraphale was thankful. Christmas music continued to play softly on the radio and he found he didn’t mind it too terribly, the holiday having less of a sting than it had previously. 

He glanced shyly over at Crowley and found him glancing back. 

“What would you say,” Aziraphale began, clearing his throat and trying not to fidget. “To ah, a proper dinner. With me. Sometime.” 

“Oh?” There was a smile curving along Crowley’s lips. 

“As in, a date. One that doesn’t involve pretending to be together.” 

“Hmm.” 

Aziraphale huffed. “There’s no need to tease.” 

“I beg to differ, but the answer is yes, angel. It will always be yes.” 

“Always?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose. “That’s bold.” 

Crowley shrugged. He said nothing more, even while Aziraphale waited for the other shoe to drop. 

“Well then. When are you free?” 

“Tonight.” 

“Tonight?” That was soon. Didn’t they need some time to cool off after the whole sharing-a-bed incident? How could Crowley want to spend  _ more _ time with him? 

“Didn’t stutter. There’s a place near your flat that I’ve heard good things about.” 

“Oh.” Then, “well. Alright. Yes. Tonight.” 

“Unless you don’t want to.” 

“I do. I...I very much do, Crowley.” Aziraphale glanced down at his lap. “I just didn’t realize you would want to.” 

Aziraphale nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Crowley’s hand wrap around his and squeeze. 

“Dinner tonight, then.” 

“Yes, dinner tonight.” Aziraphale squeezed back. 

Later, at a small restaurant serving Korean barbecue that still had fairy lights up for the holiday, Aziraphale pulled a small package out of his pocket. 

“In the midst of everything I realized I never had a chance to give this to you.” He slid the small box across the table. Crowley eyed it, then glanced back up at Aziraphale. 

“Hold on, then.” He stood and disappeared out the door, leaving Aziraphale to stare after him. Thankfully, Crowley returned not two moments later with a package of his own in hand. He set it on the table and sat back down. “I had something for you, too.” 

“Oh. You shouldn’t have.” 

Crowley smiled. “Neither should you.” 

“Well, ought we open them together?” 

“Sure.” 

Aziraphale picked up the package and began to carefully unwrap it. As the packaging was peeled away he made a surprised sound. It was a copy of  _ A Christmas Carol _ . Not a first edition, of course, but still an old copy with an ornate cover. He drew his fingertips over the gilding, admiring it in the dim light of the restaurant. 

Finally, he raised his eyes to look at Crowley who appeared to be inspecting his gift. It was a dark metal watch, one of the fancy kinds with all sorts of additions to the face. Aziraphale had seen it and thought it suited Crowley. He’d bought it trying to think of something that would show his appreciation. 

Crowley’s eyes shined in the low light as he made eye contact with Aziraphale. 

“This is perfect.” He slid the watch on his wrist. 

“As is this. How did you know I collected old books?” 

Suddenly, Crowley looked a bit embarrassed. “Er.” 

Aziraphale’s brow crinkled. “Yes?” 

“Uh. Well.” Crowley offered a sheepish smile. “I’m friends with Anathema and, er, she, uh, may have helped a bit.” 

Anathema? Aziraphale thought back to her statements about Crowley, from encouraging Aziraphale to see him, to being the one to pitch Crowley as his fake boyfriend. Oh goodness, how long had they been scheming? Aziraphale blushed and hid his face in his hands. 

“Aziraphale, angel,” Crowley sounded uncertain and reached out to touch his arm. “Are you upset?” 

“No, dear, just...touched. Surprised.” He glanced up shyly. “Amazed.” 

Crowley’s face softened. “You know what we should do? We should take our gifts back to your place. We can pick up some makings for eggnog on the way and I’ll make you the best damned eggnog on the planet and we can watch holiday movies until we’re exhausted.” 

“You would really like that?” 

“Hell yeah.” Crowley grinned. “As long as you would.” 

“I think I very much would.” 

“Good.” The affection on Crowley’s face would be seared into his memory for years to come. 

As promised, they picked up what they needed for eggnog and crashed on Aziraphale’s couch watching movies. At one point Aziraphale vaguely noted Crowley lifting something up. He yawned and glanced up. 

It was a sprig of mistletoe. 

“Might I?” Crowley asked, reaching with his other hand to cup Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“You might,” Aziraphale murmured, making a pleased sound as Crowley leaned in and kissed him. 

“Happy Christmas,” Crowley whispered against his mouth. 

“Happy Christmas, my dear,” Aziraphale replied. He was lowered gently onto his back on the couch as the mistletoe was left abandoned on the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/) and feel free to check out my other finished and ongoing Good Omens stuff!


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